


Gee, You Look Awful

by Stay_Frosty



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Good Parent Marvin (Falsettos), Good Parent Whizzer Brown, HIV/AIDS, Heavy Angst, Hospitalized Whizzer Brown, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Marvin Not Being an Asshole (Falsettos), Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:54:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26011450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stay_Frosty/pseuds/Stay_Frosty
Summary: In which Marvin and Whizzer can't seem to say the word 'dying' out loud until Jason does it for them, which leads to a very important conversation.
Relationships: Jason & Marvin (Falsettos), Jason & Whizzer Brown, Whizzer Brown/Marvin
Comments: 22
Kudos: 52





	1. part one

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Thursday here's some angst - Jason will be in part 2. part 1 is whizzvin centric

Despite having not looked in a mirror in at least a week, Whizzer had a fair idea on what he must look like. It was evident in the other patients that he had seen, bachelors who entered the hospital healthy-looking and handsome one day, only to resemble nothing short of a corpse the next. He wasn’t an idiot, he knew he was next. Or perhaps he had reached that point already, he wouldn’t know. No one would tell him how truly awful he looked: on the rare occasions he asked, they would smile and say something along the lines of _“like you’re getting better.”_ but their cheery voices were fake and forced, their smiles tight-lipped and unconvincing. He wasn’t getting better, and he wished people would stop trying to convince him he would. He knew he looked awful, even if his family were too afraid to admit it to his face. 

Whizzer knew that the hair hidden under his knitted hospital cap was thin and greasy, lifeless and flat for the first time since he was a child. The man had always prided himself on how good his hair looked. He’d spent good money on the dozens of products that he would apply to it day and night - it was only ironic that his hair was the first to go. _It must feel awful,_ he thought to himself. Matted and clammy and saturated with the natural oils that he didn’t have the energy to wash out. Yet still, Marvin would run his fingers through the strands as he gently pressed a kiss into the younger man’s forehead. His short nails would scratch gently at his scalp, soothing him and relieving him ever so slightly of the unrelenting pounding sensation in his skull. 

Marvin was the only person who had seen him without his cap on, and that was only because he was with him every second of the day. Eventually, he reached a point where his scalp itched too much to keep the thing on, but Marvin had promised he’d still find Whizzer attractive without his ridiculously voluminous hair. Whizzer had chewed on his bottom lip as he sheepishly asked how bad it was. Marvin assured him it was fine, but the older man’s subtle wince hadn’t gone unnoticed. 

Whizzer knew that his heavy-lidded eyes were likely sunken and encroached with dark, purple circles that were only intensified by the way his skin bruised so easily these days. Marvin would gaze into them with the same amount of love and adoration he had before, and Whizzer didn’t resent the newly added look of sadness and pity within his lovers own blue eyes as much as he thought he would. He understood, after all. Sure, Whizzer was the one with the sickness, but Marvin was the one who would have to pick up the pieces when the inevitable happened. He’d have to deal with his own grief whilst handling that of his son’s and the rest of their family - Whizzer wouldn’t have to worry about any of that. 

He was aware that his face was probably thin and hollow, his skin a pale grey and clammy with sweat, matching the rest of his skeletal figure. No matter how much chapstick he applied, his lips were cracked and likely colourless, cold and unfamiliar yet Marvin kissed them anyway. 

He lay beside Marvin, the cramped hospital bed a stark contrast to their king-sized bed back at home, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, so long as his lover was beside him. Nights were the worst, those occasions where Marvin would be forced to leave his side, and despite the rest he knew he should be getting, Whizzer could do nothing but stare at the ceiling wishing he were anywhere but where he was. He knew he would probably never go home again, that the next time he left this room would be when the inevitable happened. 

“You’re beautiful,” he heard Marvin murmur beside him, and Whizzer couldn’t but scoff bitterly. Marvin frowned, a look of deep sadness washing over his features. He moved his hand to gently cup Whizzer’s jaw, grazing his thumb across the younger man’s prominent cheekbone. “You are,” he argued softly. 

Huffing a humourless laugh, Whizzer closed his eyes to shield his lover from seeing the tears burning behind them. If Marvin had made anything clear, he hated feeling helpless. Whizzer didn’t want his lover to see him crying. “I don’t feel it,” he whispered so quietly that if it weren’t for the palpable silence of the room and their close proximity, Marvin may have missed it. 

Confidence was never something Whizzer truly struggled with. Sure, there were things he was insecure about, but it was nothing the lustful eyes of a drunk stranger couldn’t fix. The awkward closet cases who would swoon and look at him like he was some sort of God made his self-esteem accelerate, but not a single one of them looked at him the way Marvin did. None of them made him _feel_ the way Marvin did. 

It had been a while since he had felt genuinely beautiful, long before he had been admitted to the hospital after collapsing. He had been noticing for weeks beforehand the subtle changes in his body: the way muscle mass was decreasing, his expensive shirts no longer flattering. He had noticed that his hair wasn’t as thick, that it wouldn’t quite style the right way, that the bags under his eyes were becoming more and more noticeable. All of the things that made him pretty were slowly slipping away and contorting into something Whizzer hated, and yet he had chosen to ignore it. Maybe Marvin had too, but he wouldn’t hold that against his lover - it was irrelevant anyway. Even if they had caught it earlier he’d likely have the same outcome. He was thankful they had those few extra weeks of ignorance. 

“You’re still my beautiful boy,” Marvin assured, his voice breaking as he said the words, but Whizzer could tell he was serious. For once it didn’t seem like Marvin was lying through his teeth to make things easier for him, but it still pained his lover to say the words. Whizzer didn’t dare open his eyes; he didn’t want to see the tears that he knew would be streaming down Marvin’s cheeks. 

The younger man choked on a sob of his own as Marvin pressed a gentle kiss onto his jaw. “You look like you’re getting better,” the older man insisted, but there was an edge to his voice like he himself even knew it was bullshit. 

Whizzer knew he didn’t look like he was getting better, because men like him didn’t get better. They only got worse, their health and their bodies slowly deteriorating until they passed away - in their sleep if they were the lucky ones. 

“Who are you tryna convince?” Whizzer retorted with a huff. “Me or you?” 

Marvin frowned and looked away, biting his lip and blinking away the tears that Whizzer could see reforming in the corners of his eyes. He suddenly felt incredibly guilty for spitting on Marvin’s hope. They coped in different ways, he supposed. Who was he to judge? 

“Sorry,” he croaked, leaning his head against his lover’s shoulder. Their hands connected on Marvin’s stomach, the soft flesh a reassuring reminder that there was a chance Marvin didn’t have whatever it was that was killing him. He hoped to god that was the case, but he wasn’t convinced he’d live long enough to find out. “It’s gonna hurt more if you keep lying to yourself, Marvie.” 

Ironically, he couldn’t even say what ‘it’ was. I didn’t matter, he didn’t need to. 

“It’s gonna hurt anyway, Whiz,” Marvin whispered sorrowfully, and Whizzer felt the grip on his hand tighten. 

Whizzer used every fibre of his strength to sit up and shift his position, encouraging Marvin to put his arm around the younger man’s frail and thin shoulders. Wrapping his own arm around his lover’s stomach, he returned his head to its rightful place on Marvin’s chest. Whizzer felt a very careful kiss on the top of his head. 

“Jason misses you,” Marvin said quietly, changing the subject. “I was thinking I could bring him with me tomorrow? He’d really like to see you.” 

A whimper escaped from Whizzer’s throat; a selfish part of him thankful that the boy he loved like he was his own flesh and blood was thinking about him. However, a bigger, much more rational part of him wished he didn’t - it would make the inevitable much easier if Whizzer knew he was hurting fewer people in the process. 

He wanted to point out that if Marvin was so convinced that he was going to get better, then there was no need to let Jason see him in this state, but he knew mind games and bickering would do neither of them any good right now. 

“I’d love that,” he responded honestly. He felt Marvin nod. Whizzer allowed his eyes to close, burying his head in the crook of his lover’s neck with a sigh. Marvin held onto to him tighter, pulling their bodies even closer together as he wrapped his second arm around Whizzer’s waist. 

They lay there in silence, both pretending that things were okay. 

If Whizzer focussed hard enough he could ignore the constant rattling in his chest and how difficult it was to breathe. He could simply pretend that he and Marvin were having a lazy Sunday afternoon, that nothing was awful. If he knew his lover, and he did, he knew that Marvin would be doing the same. He was likely pretending that he couldn’t feel Whizzer’s ribs through his paper-thin skin and that the breaths against his neck weren’t shallow and raspy. 

“I love you,” he heard Marvin say softly. 

Whizzer smiled despite the situation, the words never failing to comfort him in the darkest of times. “I love you t-” His response was cut off by a violent coughing fit. 

Whizzer forced himself to sit up despite the aching in his bones, turning his head quickly away from Marvin’s as he hacked up his lungs. The bed dipped before suddenly feeling much wider as Marvin climbed out of it. A moment or so later, he was attempting to coax a cup of water into Whizzer’s hand. 

"Shhh, you’re okay,” Marvin cooed, rubbing circles into the younger man’s back to soothe him. Whizzer tried to control the fit, to soften the wheezing of his chest and the god awful noises he was making but he simply couldn’t help the way his whole body convulsed and wretched. “I’ve got you, you’re okay.” He tried to focus on his lover’s voice rather than the short breaths he struggled to take. 

Eventually, his attack had settled down, only shallow hiccups and wheezy breaths escaping his lips. With trembling hands, both of which were gripping the plastic red cup, he attempted to take a sip of water. When his shaking fingers struggled to support the cup, Marvin quickly covered Whizzer’s hand with his own and helped him take a drink. 

He hated feeling like a child, finding even the most basic of tasks difficult, but the way the cool liquid felt against his scratchy throat distracted him from the melancholy thought. 

“Take it slow, baby,” Marvin said softly, and Whizzer had no choice to obey since he had little control over the cup. 

Whizzer finally finished the contents, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his hospital gown after. “Thank you,” he murmured. When his eyes met Marvin’s, he noticed that they were wide with concern - no - _fear_. Marvin was scared and Whizzer couldn’t do anything to fix it. His own eyes softened: “Come lay back down.” 

Marvin complied, the bed dipping as he took his place beside Whizzer once more. “It’ll be okay, Marvie,” the younger man whispered, feeling less scared of death than he did his lover’s reaction to it. 

Marvin closed his eyes and took a nervous breath. “I can’t imagine things ever being okay without you, Whiz,” he softly, and Whizzer’s heart tore at his words. 

Whizzer sighed. “If-” his throat suddenly felt like sandpaper again. “If you meet someone else when I’m-” 

“No.” 

The younger man deflated. “Marvin-” 

“I said no, Whizzer. Not happening.” 

“If it _does._ ”

“It _won’t._ ” 

Whizzer sighed, detecting that Marvin wasn’t ready for that discussion just yet, but he needed him to know. He needed him to know that if there was a chance of him moving on that he should, that no matter how relentless Whizzer teased him about his age, he was still young - he still had a shot at living. They’d talk about it another time, he figured. 

“Okay,” Whizzer settled. “I’m sorry.” 

They lay in silence after that, holding each other close. Maybe Marvin was praying that things would be okay - but Whizzer was way beyond that point. Of course, he prayed that his family would be okay, that he’d go in his sleep, that Marvin wouldn’t catch the sickness and that Jason would grow up to be president even if he couldn’t be there to see it, but he was tired of praying to live; it wasn’t going to happen. 

Instead, he spent the time taking in every one of Marvin’s features like it was the last time he’d see them. He gazed lovingly at the slight stubble growing on his lover’s soft jaw, his pink lips that were nowhere near as dry or broken as Whizzer’s. His tired, yet no less wonderful blue eyes that stared back at him lovingly. 

“You look tired, Marv,” he commented gently. “Go home, get some rest.” 

“I’m fine, Whizzer, I’m staying here.” 

And that he did, right up until visiting hours were over and he was forced to leave, allowing Whizzer to wallow in his own thoughts and worries. The bed he lay in was tiny, yet felt huge without Marvin laying beside him in it. The room felt too cold without his lover’s arms around him. He didn’t sleep much that night.


	2. part two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marvin and Whizzer finally have the conversation they've been dreading when Jason pushes them to do so. 
> 
> Whizzer makes his peace and his goodbyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i said this would be up yesterday, i tried but i had a bunch of stuff going on and i was too sad to write more than 1K words (im feeling better today, hence the update). thank you so much for the kind reactions to part one, this is the first time i have wrote Whizzer's death and the events leading up to it so i hope this is okay!

Marvin returned the next day, as promised, with Jason in tow. 

One of the first things that caught Whizzer’s attention was his lover’s appearance; he seemed no more refreshed than he had the previous day. His lack of rest was evident in the way he would rub at his heavy-lidded eyes with trembling fingers, rapidly blinking his exhaustion away. Whizzer supposed he’d be a hypocrite if he scolded his lover about getting rest, yet couldn’t help but wonder just how much caffeine his boyfriend had consumed. 

Nevertheless, he couldn’t help the smile that broke out on his face as the two entered the room - he’d berate Marvin about his health later - what was important now was forcing on a cheery demeanour in front of Jason. The boy scanned the room, seeming a little unnerved by the unfamiliar surroundings until his eyes landed on Whizzer, widening in shock. Whizzer could almost hear the cogs turning in his son’s head, desperately trying to find something to say. 

“Hey, kid,” he greeted, hoping to break through to Jason’s haze - but the boy continued to eye him carefully. Part of Whizzer hoped that Marvin had warned his son beforehand and told him what to expect, but it seemed that his lover’s blind optimism had extended outside the four walls of the hospital room. 

Eventually, the kid blinked, scrunching his nose slightly before speaking. “Gee, you look  _ awful _ ," he commented tactlessly. Marvin turned red, quickly nudging his son and hissing a very quiet  _ ‘Jason’ _ that Whizzer wasn’t sure he was supposed to hear. Jason knitted his brows together, staring at Marvin in accusation. Even from his distanced place in the hospital bed, Whizzer could see the look of hurt that crossed the kid’s features. “You told me he was getting better.” 

It took the distressed look on Marvin’s face for Jason to realise that his comment had been tasteless, and it was probably rude to tell a sick man that he looked sick. His cheeks turned an embarrassed shade of crimson as he shifted his gaze to the ground in front of him, apologising sheepishly for his comment - but Whizzer found himself grinning. 

He smiled at the boy, waving a hand dismissively. “It’s fine buddy,” he assured - because it truly was. 

The truth was, if anything, refreshing; it was the breath of fresh air that Whizzer’s tired lungs so desperately needed to take. Whizzer knew that if he could trust anyone to be brutally honest with him, it was Jason. His step-son’s lack of filter would often get him into trouble, but Whizzer always found himself thankful for it, no matter how harsh his comments may be. 

When he had moved in with Marvin, he never had to stress about whether or not Jason liked him; if he didn’t, he’d say something. Whizzer had always been appreciative of that, even more so now when he was grasping onto life by a thread - a thread that continued to wither away just waiting to snap. 

Unlike the rest of his family, Jason wouldn’t patronize him and tell him it was okay when it wasn’t. They had a mutual understanding to never lie to one another. 

Whizzer shuffled, making room in his bed and patting the space beside him. He hoped it wasn’t obvious to Jason just how much the simple action pained his aching bones. If it was, the kid didn’t say anything, and instead hurried over, climbing ungracefully onto the hospital bed and settling beside Whizzer. The sick man barely managed to suppress a tired groan as he shifted his arm, wrapping it around the kid’s slim shoulders, every muscle aching as he did. Despite his usual distaste for physical affection, Jason leaned into Whizzer’s touch and made no complaints. 

He looked over to Marvin, who had been mostly quiet besides scolding Jason; the older man was watching them carefully with a sorrowful expression. When he caught Whizzer’s gaze, he forced a reassuring smile onto his face that was not dissimilar to one that you would give a child. Whizzer tried not to feel belittled - he knew his lover only had good intentions. 

“How are you feeling, kid?” Marvin asked, making his way over to the small table in the room. It was notably one of the only pieces of furniture within the four walls besides the bed. Not that it mattered - he probably wouldn’t spend much longer in them anyway. Marvin was about to pour a cup of water from the jug when Whizzer shook his head as stealthily as he could. The last thing he wanted was a repeat of yesterday in front of Jason. Being unable to steadily hold a cup was embarrassing enough in front of Marvin - their kid didn’t need to be exposed to it. 

Whizzer forced a smile as Marvin put the jug back down onto the table and instead stood beside the bed. “About as good as I look,” he answered the question, huffing an empty laugh. 

Marvin nodded, an optimistic smile on his lips contrasting his worried eyes. “You’re looking good today,” he said, his voice only trembling slightly. He looked away as he said the words, refusing to make eye contact. 

Whizzer fought the urge to roll his eyes, tired of having the same conversation every single day - but he didn’t have the heart to argue the toss about it in front of Jason. Instead, he forced a smile, nodding, and like his lover avoided eye contact. “Yeah,” Whizzer agreed as cheerily as he could. “I’m feeling a lot better too.” 

The words even sounded false to his own ears, suddenly feeling awkward that he felt the need to lie around Jason. Was he not grateful only a few minutes ago that Jason was honest with him? 

The room fell silent until Jason sighed. “Can you guys stop treating me like I’m an idiot?” he snapped, his voice filled with frustration. 

Whizzer stilled, his arm tensing at the child’s brutal words. It dawned on him then that perhaps they should have discussed how much they were going to tell Jason and what they planned to keep to themselves. He was about to respond, but the kid continued. 

“Because I'm not,” he said firmly. “I’ve read the papers. I know you’re dying, Whizzer.” 

Whizzer could have sworn he heard Marvin whimper, but the older man disguised it as an unconvincing cough. It was only there it had occurred to him that neither of them had said the word aloud to one another before - they would either disregard it completely or refer to death as ‘it’ or ‘the inevitable’. Such a harsh word seemed wrong coming from the kid’s mouth, but then again he should have anticipated this. Of course, Jason would have done his research into the illness; his step-son refused to be uneducated on any topic, let alone one that would have such an impact on his family. 

He sighed, tightening his grip on the boy’s shoulders. As usual, the most honest person in the room was Jason. When he finally had the courage to look down at his son and meet his gaze, he was expecting the boy to look irritated, but he didn’t. Instead the boy’s wide, curious eyes were filled with hurt and fear, boring into Whizzer’s soul with worry. They were similar to his father’s in so many ways, but the most striking to Whizzer was the concern held inside of them. 

Whizzer did his best to send the kid a reassuring smile, but he feared it appeared as more of a grimace. “You’re right, pal,” he said slowly, watching Jason carefully for a reaction. The kid’s entire demeanour changed - no longer curious or observant, but glossy and, well, devastated was the only way to describe the look on Jason’s face. 

It made Whizzer’s heart ache more than the bones in his body. The pain of his body slowly deteriorating was nothing compared to the pain of knowing that Jason was hurting. 

“I’m sorry,” he earnestly said, pulling the boy closer to him and running slim fingers up and down his upper arm. He heard Jason sniffle and watched as he brought his hoodie-clad hand up to scrub away the tears in his eyes. He quickly buried his face against Whizzer’s boney shoulder. 

Whizzer eyed Marvin carefully, searching for some sort of reaction - but the older man was looking anywhere but him. He turned his attention back to the boy who was quietly whimpering against his shoulder - a painful reminder that while Jason was extremely mature for his age, he was a child nonetheless. A child who has just been given confirmation that one of his dads was going to die. 

“I know you’re not an idiot,” Whizzer soothed gently, grazing circles onto Jason’s arm with his thumb. “I promise I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.” 

Jason lifted his head, and the older man’s heart tore at his tear-stained cheeks. “So it’s true?” he all but whimpered. Whizzer could only focus on the way the kid’s lip trembled as he tried to stay composed. “You _are_ dying?” 

Marvin didn’t even try to cover up the distressed sob that escaped his lips. Whizzer and Jason both turned their attention to the man who was covering his entire face with his hands. It seemed finally time to have the painful conversation that they had each been avoiding. 

Whizzer couldn’t seem to form words when he glanced back down at Jason, his wide eyes staring back at him, and could only seem to nod. 

Jason stuck his bottom lip out, his eyes searching desperately for some trace of a lie. Some trace of hope in the other man’s face, trembling as he found none. “But-” His voice was weak and shaky. “But I don’t want you to die.” 

With what felt like the last of his energy, Whizzer took a hand and gently cupped the boy’s jaw, wiping away the few stray tears with a trembling thumb. “Neither do I, pal,” he admitted, unsure of what else to say. Part of him wished that Marvin would step in, yet another part was thankful he and Jason were able to have this conversation to themselves. The kid wasn’t finding out through a third party - Whizzer only hoped that softened the betrayal for the kid. 

He looked to Marvin desperately, and his lover quickly took his hand, running gentle circles onto the back of it. The touch was soothing - enough to ground his thoughts. Whizzer took a raspy breath, making the most of feeling Jason’s body pressed against his and Marvin’s warm hand in his colder one. 

“You know I’d love more than anything to see you grow up,” Whizzer began, preparing himself mentally for the conversation he’d been dreading. “I wanna see you graduate, get married, become president.” His tone was playful for the last part, but he meant it. 

Jason nodded against him. “I hate the president,” he spat. The kid’s voice was thick - trembling - and it broke Whizzer’s heart to feel wet tears begin to trail down the boy’s face. 

Of course, Jason would have done his research into the government’s reaction to the virus - or lack thereof. 

“Yeah, me too,” Whizzer said, melancholy. “But you’re kind-hearted and honest, and so goddamn intelligent. You could run the country right now if it were allowed.”

Jason chuckled at that despite his tears, his lips curving at the corners into a small smile. “Thanks, Whizzer,” he said, his voice small but earnest nonetheless. “I’ll make you proud, I promise.” 

Whizzer tried hopelessly not to break out into a sob at the innocent words. He bundled the boy into his arms, letting go of Marvin’s hand for a second to embrace his tighter. He vaguely heard his lover shuffle closer, feeling said hand gently begin to rub circles into his back, the motion soothing and grounding him. 

“I know you will, kid,” Whizzer whispered, pressing a gentle kiss into Jason’s unruly hair. “I love you.” 

Whizzer saw Jason only a few times after that. One being the very next day after the kid had insisted on visiting as much as he possibly could - school work and baseball be damned. Their conversion after that was much lighter, Whizzer would ask about the Bar Mitzvah and Jason would ramble about the girl he liked whilst the three of them somehow managed to spread themselves out onto the tiny single bed. Sometimes he and Marvin would play chess, the winner then having the play against Jason - of course, the kid would always win. 

As the days went by, it was becoming harder to act human around the kid. Those were the days he was mostly thankful to be surrounded by the rest of their family, knowing that if he broke out into a coughing fit or was enveloped by his exhaustion that Trina or Mendel would take Jason to get something from the vending machines so that he wasn’t exposed to the darker sides of the sickness. 

Whizzer was grateful to be surrounded by his family - even if they could each borderline overbearing in their own little ways. They cared, and Whizzer had spent much of his life without people caring for him - it was comforting and almost poetic, in a way, that he was going to die knowing that he was loved. 

If he was ever caught alone with an individual, he would make his goodbye’s and his apologies as well as his thanks. He apologised to Trina for the pain and heartbreak he caused her in the beginning, to which she smiled reassuringly, taking his hand and telling him that all was forgiven - that she loved him and would miss him deeply despite their rocky start. She thanked him for being a great father to Jason, then held him and soothed him when he broke out into a sob at her words. 

He thanked Mendel for taking care of Marvin’s mental health and for ultimately being a good friend to him and Marvin. He thanked him for making Trina happy when he and Marvin had pushed her to her lowest - his stomach coiling as he admitted his wrongdoings. 

He thanked Charlotte for taking care of his health, telling her he was nothing but proud of her for all of the lives she saved, and all of the lives that she couldn’t quite save to no fault of her own. He thanked Cordelia for being the best friend he could have ever asked for - for keeping his strength up with her food and for her kind heart. He made both of them promise to take care of Marvin, and he could only hope it was through grief and not sickness. 

He thanked Jason again, not only for accepting him into the family but for sacrificing the sophisticated venue that Trina had planned for the kid’s Bar Mitzvah in lieu of spending it with him. 

In his last few moments, he thanked Marvin. He thanked him for being a friend, and a lover and a thorn in his side that he couldn’t have lived without. He apologised for the toxicity of their relationship the first time around, and thanked him for the love and care and comfort the second time. And despite Marvin not wanting to hear it, made his lover swear that if he was given a shot at happiness to take it. 

And when breathing became no longer difficult, but impossible, he used his last gasps of air to say the words “I love you.” 

Marvin probably said it back, but he couldn’t be sure; he couldn’t hear anything over the sound of his own lungs falling apart as his body wracked with violent coughing - but he could feel his lover’s secure arms around him, cradling him and holding their bodies together closely. 

Then, the scene turned to black. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feedback is massively appreciated!! 
> 
> add my tumblr: stay-frosty :)

**Author's Note:**

> part 2 will probably be up tomorrow


End file.
